


Ashes

by Heylir



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir
Summary: What do the adoptive mother of Jack O’Malley and his new acquaintance have in common?Several scenes duringNo Rest for the Wicked(and the extra story).





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Пепел](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246467) by [Heylir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir). 

> This translation was made by the author. I'd be grateful to be informed about typos and mistakes found, in order to fix them.

“What’re you doing?” Thackerey’s voice, unpleasant and shrill, came from behind.  
O’Malley didn’t know what he was doing. Just now he wasn’t touching the precious books and notes, wasn’t dropping fragile things on the floor and wasn’t saying “disgusting words”. He even wasn’t smoking, though suddenly he strongly wished to.  
“What a mess on the floor you’ve made with your dirty boots! You should take your footwear off when you come in from outside!”  
“Who’s sayin’?” O’Malley asked lazily and glanced sideways at the wizard. His sharp annoyed spikes hurt O’Malley’s eyes, so he looked away.  
“Me! I have to clean the floor after you now!”  
“Floor my ass!” said O’Malley, enjoying the sound of the word. “I don’t make ye clean! An’ yer not gonna make me do as ye say!”  
He proceeded upstairs to his bedroom, regretting only that his boots were not dirty so much already.  
In the bedroom he fell on to his bed, as he was, in boots, and stared up at the ceiling.  
He didn’t want to think about that, but memory stirred, of the caring voice, of the warm hands and the spirit_ bird_, large as a cloud, homely as a blanket, loving as...

_ Wait, Jackie, wipe yer boots thoroughly first..._  
_ Little one, pick up th’ wrappers an’ drop in th’ wastebasket, alright?_  
_ Don’t walk on th’ just washed floor, love. Don’t want yer mum t’ work more._

O’Malley squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rolled over and pressed his face to the pillow. “Good thin’ Wolfe didn’t ‘ear us yellin’,” he thought suddenly.

* * *

All O’Malley wanted was getting to his bed and dropping off to sleep till midday. His head hurt, much more than his feet did, — there were so many people on that day, with a lot of fear, dismay and anger. And that orphanage, too, damn Ben for dragging them there at this time of night! They hadn’t to do it, the kids scared the buggerup more than it scared them.  
Only at halfway upstairs he saw he was leaving a wet trail and wondered why Ben was silent still. He looked back at Ben staying near the front door and pulling off his coat slowly. There weren’t bristling up annoyed quills around him, his colours were weak and faint. Like ones those wizards that had buggered up the spells had got.  
_Or Enid when she was..._  
His chest tightened, so he had to swallow several times. He went downstairs, unhurriedly and reluctantly, towards undressed Ben leaning against the door jamb. His forehead was wet with sweat. What could make him tired? It was him and Wolfe who had been knocking themselves out in catching buggerups, and Ben had only been drawing circles and repeating the same words over and over. Some cushy job. Or maybe... spells take power, too? And O’Malley could tell at first sight that Ben was a weak wizard.  
“I... forgot ‘bout th’ boots,” O'Malley said in a bit husky voice.  
“Never mind, I’ll clean it in a moment,” Ben managed to say. “And then I’ll make something to eat. Are you hungry?”  
“Nah, I’m too sleepy. Mebbe, call it a night? We can eat in th’ mornin’.”  
“In the morning? Yes, we can. I’m just going to clean...”  
“I shall clean it myself,” Wolfe came to the rescue in time. “So go and get some rest, Ben.”  
Ben staggered to wash himself, without any objection. Mal crouched down to unlace his boots. Wolfe looked at him, smiled and went for the broom.

* * *

“You must find a way to stop them... or this business is over before it starts!”  
Worried, Ben cleaned up the mess buggerups had made in the office. He picked up all scattered papers already, cleared the desk and wiped off the name written in ink from it now.  
“Gonna try,” O’Malley promised, rolling out a pencil from under a chair with his foot. He took his part in cleaning, after all.  
Suddenly Ben gasped, and he came up to find out what happened: did Ben step on a piece of glass or trip over a buggerup? But Ben just looked at the dark tabletop with a deep scratch made with a buggerup’s claw, apparently. He passed his forefinger against it sadly, sweeping away crumbs of lacquer.  
“I have to hide it somehow...”  
Then O’Malley recalled something.

_ A neat little girl, wearing a cap on her dark curls, pointed at a scratched wooden panel with loud sobbing._  
_ “Now they’ll give me the sack! Or take my monthly wages!” Her spirit twin cried not less bitterly, though without a sound._  
_ “Turn off th’ waterworks,” Enid said with authority. “Does yer master smoke?”_

“Wait a sec,” he told Ben and cut to the kitchen. He came back soon, with an ashtray, full of some dark paste. “Now move over a bit.” He put his finger into the dough, picked at it and began to rub it into the scratch. “Well?” he said after he wiped away the rest of the paste.  
“I can’t see anything! What is it?” asked Ben, surprised.  
“Ashes an’ water. Ye see, smokin’ can help, too.”  
“But where did you get this trick?”  
O’Malley frowned.  
“Non-degreed people can know things too, mister wizard.”  
“I think so,” Ben said soothingly. “If once I thought otherwise, I was wrong. By the way, did I tell you ‘thanks for saving my life’?”  
O'Malley scowled even more, “Fer nothin’. We jus’ were lucky I could do sumthin’.”  
_And there’re times when you can do nothing..._ O’Malley turned away to hide his face from Ben.  
“Then I’ll say ‘thanks for being near me’.”  
O’Malley pressed his trembling lips together and clenched his hands.

_ A small mound with the name and date he couldn’t read..._  
_ It’s not my fault that I wasn’t near her, that I came back when _real-she_ had been _gone_, for ever, I’ll never see her anymore..._  
_ Didn’t tell her goodbye, even!_

“O’Malley, look,” Ben’s voice was unusually hesitant, “I have been thinking... maybe, if you wipe your boots thoroughly, you haven’t to take them off?”  
O’Malley laughed, and some drops were sprinkled from his eyelashes.


End file.
